..it's the new black.

I was called a bitch by a testorone-driven moron a few days ago. I really don't mind the term. I am, in fact, a bitch. I own it. I'm opinionated, ambitious, strong, passionate and all of those things that a weak minded and chauvinistic male such as the name-caller would be threatened by. I also had called his girlfriend out on some pretty annoying and unnecessary behaviour. He had to jump in to 'defend his woman' and scratch his balls in my general direction. It's so clear that in one statement he thinks so little of woman that he can't even afford a second to think of valid insult and assumes his 'woman' can't fight her own battles.

It's been a few days and the event is still lingering in my head. Do I care about what I was called? No. I certainly don't have high enough regard of the guy who called me this to give his opinion or existence validation. I have been called far worse names by far better people. People of substance and value, with education and valid reasons for theirr accusations, but a dumb redneck does not warrant my attention.  I think I'm just bothered that that mentality STILL exists. I'm sad that the girlfriend, who claims to be a feminist, hid behind a caveman. I'm sad that the words I spoke, though admittedly not said in the most eloquent of voices, were dismissed because a giant alleged insult was flung in hopes of dismissing my points.

I see this all the time, the reaction to a woman is to cut her off at the knees by using terms like 'bitch'  in order to protect the men's balls (or egos if you don't get the metaphor). But this is an age old tactic and really isn't anything worth bitchin' about.

What I really don't like is the new way men have found to diminish the value of a woman. Media headlines have been plagued with the tales of ego-driven, ethic-less politicians getting caught doing unbelievably stupid things. Cheating on their wives, having multiple affairs, sending stupid photos of themselves to teenagers. If one were to take a lesson from the behavior of the male leaders of this country, it could be that women are good only for entertainment value, to inflate inferiority complexes, to pose in pictures, to blame for your own shortcomings (sex addictions, really?) but certainly not worthy of respect or validation. For every celebrity and politician (and isn't it sad that those two job titles are what we consider leaders?) who does this, there are a string of women who are dismissed and erased.  The governor didn't respect his wife enough to stay home? His daughter isn't worth keeping it in his pants for? The women he is sexting or risking his career and his constituents voice in government for has a father, too.

And while all the headline hooplah swirls about sexting and sex addictions, can someone tell me if any progress has been made on the health care bill? Are Republicans still making it a point to let women know we have no choice or say in our own health care as long as they're around because clearly we are not humans with rights--we are simply decorations and toys.

I wish they'd go back to calling us "dolls" and making a point to describe our outfits and use objectifying terms such as bitch or ambitious instead of this new level. I can combat bitch. I figure I'm doing something right when I get called that. I leave you (reader-singular) with my favorite clip from SNL and the mantra that has stuck in my head since Tina Fey first said it, "Bitches get stuff done." 

Running in Circles

Tomorrow morning, I'll report to the exact same desk where I started my career. Almost five years ago, a very nervous 23 y/o girl with very little professional experience and a mom-like hairstyle wobbled into the lobby of the ETS Operations Center in New Jersey and hoped for best. She had gotten stuck in traffic on the Pennsylvania Turnpike twice during the 60-mile commute from her parent's house in Chester County and was already an hour late. The AC also wasn't working in her beat-up red Cavalier and thought it wasn't hot outside, she definitely perspired more on the stressful commute than one would like on the first day of a new job.

She clutches her fancy leather portfolio full of newspaper clippings and freshly printed resumes, and watches the fancy business people hustle in and out of the lobby. Soon, a beautiful, gregarious woman comes out to greet the nervous girl. A big smile and warm laugh lets this girl know things will be okay. Minna leads this girl to a small office with a pile of Post-It Notes, an uncomfortable chair and a pretty blond coworker named Kristen. They liked my purse.

I ended up working at the Operations Center for close to four years. I turned 24 shortly after that nervous day and am now staring at 29. I made friends. I made mistakes. I learned a lot. I got to know those "fancy" business people and inadvertently became one. That lobby I waited for Minna in once served as a foyer for a second home, with a second family.

A lot has happened in the five years since I first sat at Z-xxx. I'm not a temp.I don't live with my parents anymore. My hair is a lot longer, my style is a lot better. About a  year ago, I left the Ops Center, or Z Building, when I accepted a position with a different department. It's been a rough year as is expected whenever there is a job change. One of the many lessons of the past five years is that a desk is a desk and your performance is what matters.  But I still can not help but sigh and shake my head at the irony of it.

I'll walk confidently into that lobby tomorrow, carrying a hefty box of work and a good amount of stress, and a very full briefcase of readings for the final classes of Master's Degree. I'll say hi and how are yous to the fancy business people. It's a full circle, yes, but it's one of those kind that spiral upwards.